Monday, May 30, 2011

Dear Spider I Trapped Under a Can of Bathroom Cleaner 2 days ago,

HOW WERE YOU STILL ALIVE TODAY WHEN I GRABBED SAID BATHROOM CLEANER TO USE IT????

That's not right.

Sorry I tried to assassinate you with Scrubbing Bubbles, which apparently aren't an effective arachnid killer... and then sorry I swept you up with a paper towel and tossed you into the trash to assumably die a slow death - it would have been easier for everyone if I were capable of squishing bugs, but, alas, I am not.

Hope you're not still alive and waiting to come attack me in my sleep.

Hopefully your family members will learn to stay the fuck out of my house.

Thanks!

Labels: letter to

Sunday, May 29, 2011

So... the neighbor lady who felt it was necessary to come to my house to tell me her husband was an adulterer* and she'd kicked him out, didn't feel it was necessary to let me know that she and her family were going to have a yard sale, you know, in case we wanted to have one, too**



* I'm assuming they're back together as he's living there again and she's back to acting like I don't exist (not a huge loss, she had big Dallas hair, wears high-heeled clogs and is churchy, so it's not like we were going to be pals, it's just that she didn't need to be so transparent in her usage of me as an emotional tampon)

**not that I would have wanted to have one, I'm sick as crap, haven't showered in 2 days and the thought of sitting outside at 6AM and haggling over pennies with strangers appeals to me about as much as a pap smear on a bed of nails right now, but it's just weird the communication that exists in a neighborhood, that's all I'm sayin'.

Labels: pointless whining

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Screws fall out all the time, the world's an imperfect place

the world may be imperfect, but this was perfection to me in my early teen years



ah, teen years, schmeen years, who am I kidding, he could still get it.

Labels: random pop culture reference

Saturday, May 21, 2011

in case anyone was worried

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Dear Woman Who Continues To Call At All Hours, Disregard My Voicemail Greeting And Leave Messages For Her Daughter (who isn't me),

Please stop calling at all hours, disregarding my voicemail greeting and leaving messages for your daughter (who isn't me).

Also, when I was nice enough to call you back to let you know that you were calling the wrong number (because you sound about 400 years old and pretty frail and sad and I felt bad for you), you acted like you had no idea what I was talking about and claimed that you never use your phone. Even when I repeated back your messages to you, pretty much verbatim, you still claimed innocence. Fine, whatever, be like that.

Sincerely hoping that you don't drive,

me

Labels: letter to

Monday, May 16, 2011

so, my car decides to stall today at the gas station and, like the She-hulk I am, I push it into a nearby parking space, pop the hood and stick my head right in there.

Then I realize that I'm only marginally capable of putting gas in it, wtf do I think I'm going to find under there? Like there's going to be flashing yellow light that says "this is what's broken and here's how to fix it"?



turned out that my battery had gone bad, but thanks to some dentally-challenged dude at some random auto parts store and way more money than I would have expected, it's been replaced - yay

Sunday, May 15, 2011

so, apparently we're not leaving California at the moment - the dude got the job offer for the thing in Washington, but the offer wasn't awesome enough to lure us away from here.

As much as I do truly love it here, I was kind of looking forward to living nearer to a bigger city and a bigger airport and an Ikea, oh, and my sister, of course  - and I had kind of sort of mentally broken up with* California and was kind of sort of excited about moving and learning a new city...

But alas, one drive down our stupidly lovely coast and I'm in love with the state again.

We are talking about moving, though, buying a place since now is pretty much the only time in the history of the state when anyone who isn't a kazillionaire can afford to buy - and I suppose, if we're staying forever and ever (or at least a couple more years), might as well live somewhere where I can paint the walls.

And looking for a house is super fun, I'm actually not super picky with houses - sure, I tend to prefer mid-century modern architecture and/or slightly older homes in neighborhoods where no one has a pit bull chained up to their front porch or fifteen cars up on blocks in the yard, but other than that, if a house has a garbage disposal (our rental house doesn't and it drives me NUTS) and has a master bedroom that isn't an add-on, thus not matching the rest of the house and possibly being poorly built and/or having crappy ventilation (our rental house, the house we owned in Savannah AND our last house in Phoenix all had that), and a fenced backyard for the pets, I'll be a happy girl. Oh, and if it had a refrigerator that didn't freeze the fuck out of everything in the bottom half of it, that would kind of be nice, too.

Although, the next time this house needs some stupid expensive repair, I might go ahead and rethink the ownership thing...




*I'm good like that with pretty much everything, once I see the finish line of something, we're pretty much done - like when you have that "oh" moment with a person**, or when you know you're going to get fired from a job, or when your favorite tv show jumps the shark.

** you know, when you meet someone and you get along great and you're considering adding them to your instant messenger or and then you find out that he or she is vegan or a Republican or batshit crazy or just boring as hell - right after that moment, *poof* magically over them and they're deleted from my phone and my facebook

Labels: first world problems, suzy fucking homemaker

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Dear Fuckface Who Stole the GPS Unit Out Of My Vehicle Last Night,

I hate to tell you you, but that unit is 1) super low-end, 2) about 4 or 5 years old and 3) I've never updated the software - If you're planning on using it yourself (which I doubt, since you're obviously on foot) you're screwed. If you were planning on pawning it, you'll be lucky to get enough for lunch off of a dollar menu, no way you're going to get enough to support your crack habit.

Sorry I didn't have more for you to steal.

Good luck with your life and your choices.

p.s. you forgot the cord

p.p.s. eat a bag of dicks


EDIT:

Dear Super Cute Sheriff's Deputy,

Thanks for being nice and not making fun of me for 1) filing a report about my stolen old, not-worth-much GPS and 2) admitting that I'd left my vehicle unlocked last night*.

xxoo,

the girl who was glad she remembered undergarments, makeup and brushed hair this morning



* shut up, I'm not the only one who thinks it's a safe neighborhood, apparently I was the 4th person this morning to report a theft in the neighborhood and it was only 9AM when I filed the report.

Labels: first world problems, letter to

Saturday, May 07, 2011

if you need me, I'll be on the porch picking my banjo and drinking moonshine out of a jar

Earlier this week, I needed to go to the grocery store to get whatever I get there, I got dressed, put on a little makeup, made my hair look slightly less ratty than it does when I wake up, grabbed my keys and purse and headed out.

I locked the door behind me, walked out to my car, went to start the car then realized that I wasn't wearing shoes.

Yep, got all the way out to my car before realizing that I was barefoot. Granted, it's springtime in California, so the weather is all Goldilocks*, but still!

And then today, we were getting ready to take the dog for a walk - halfway through me putting on my spiffy new shape-up shoes**, we decided to take him to the dog park instead - so I finish putting on the shoes, leash up the dog, grab my keys and halfway to the park, I realize - I'm braless. Of course I don't keep this fact to myself***

me: It's like we're from Alabama!
him: correction, it's like you're from Alabama.






*not too hot, not too cold

** which, in addition to being all kinds of ugly, are spectacularly uncomfortable

*** not that it wouldn't have been obvious sooner or later - I am occasionally jealous of small-boobed people who don't have to strap them down all the time

Labels: "awesome" ends with "me", kind of a dork

Sunday, May 01, 2011

So I've mentioned my recent follicular issues and, after more boxes of hairdye, packages of grape kool-aid and gallons of conditioner than I'd like to admit, my hair is probably about as close to the Aniston-esque color as it's going to get for now - go, me - but because of all that, my hair was a little damaged and I had to lose a bit of the length, so instead of the below the shoulder mop I've been sporting for a while, it's a teeny bit above my shoulders and layered (it's about 2 inches shorter than tan-realtor-with-an-ad-in-the-local-newspaper and about 3 inches longer than chubby-white-girl-who-has-an-eyebrow-ring-and-dates-black-guys).

Today, I'm at a basketball game for The Kid and the mom of one of his teammates does a doubletake when she sees me.

"You are always doing different stuff with your hair!" she says, as though it's news to me. (granted she's probably had the same hairstyle since 1991, so it probably seems weird to her)

We're not pals so I'm not going to bore her with the hair chronicles, so I just say "Oh, yeah, you know, I'm always trying new things. I should probably just shave it off..." and before I can say "and buy wigs instead", she interrupts and says -

"Oh, and start over?"

This woman's kid and The Kid have been on the same basketball team on and off for over 2 years and she is pathologically incapable of remembering my name... but she thinks she knows me well enough that she can finish my sentences?

Labels: pointless whining